


It's a Guilty Pleasure

by Rosewhipped



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom!Cas, Comeplay, Dorks in Love, Felching, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, a lil bit, because Dean and Cas are banging, even though they probably switch, pray for sammy, they're so in love, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewhipped/pseuds/Rosewhipped
Summary: Medical kink in the bunker starring Dorks in Love: Dean and Cas
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 215





	It's a Guilty Pleasure

Dr. Sexy, MD had been on the air for more than ten glorious years. 

Dean figures he must have seen every episode at least twice, but he’s never gotten to watch them in order. So when the show comes on Netflix, it becomes a top priority to start at the beginning. Dean’s only on season 2 and he’s already been delighted to come across three episodes he’s never seen before.

Enamored all over again by the characters and storyline, Dean ropes Cas into watching it with him sometimes. Sam laughs at the two of them taking up one end of the couch and shakes his head. He’s never appreciated the compelling prose and convoluted story lines the way Dean does.

Cas doesn’t like the hospital drama nearly as much as Dean does, but he enjoys watching Dean’s reactions and sitting close to him. He’ll idly touch Dean’s arm and shift down in his seat to lean his head back against Dean, making a pillow out of him. 

Ever since he first saw Dr. Sexy and the beautiful employees of Seattle Mercy Hospital in their scrubs and clean, white coats, Dean knew he had a medical fetish. There’s just something about the idea of playing doctor in a sterile environment. One person vulnerable while an authority figure expertly examines every inch of their body. The doctor roleplaying porn he’s watched is always insanely hot. 

So, it shouldn’t have been too surprising that he starts dreaming about donning his own lab coat and giving Cas an extensive examination. 

Dean’s reoccurring nighttime fantasy quickly starts to capture his attention during the day too. He makes excuses to watch something else when Cas settles next to him on the couch, trying his hardest not to picture Cas in a hospital gown lying back on an examination table, dark hair stark against the flimsy white paper. Following doctor’s orders to ruck the gown up around his waist, exposing long, lean legs and… it’s really starting to be a problem.

Watching on his laptop in his bed becomes the new standard. Dean is half-way through an episode when Cas casually eases himself down onto the mattress, startling him. The damn angel can casually sneak around the bunker more quietly than Dean ever could, even in socks and with years of sneaking under his belt.

“What happened with Dr. Piccolo and the intern?”

“Uh, it’s… unresolved still,” Dean says, clearing his throat and adjusting the laptop so it hides his crotch. “But, I’ve seen this one too often.”

Dean exits the episode, embarrassed as Cas watches him. Sliding out from under Cas’s hand, he makes an excuse to leave the room.

He isn’t sure how Cas would react to the concept of playing patient for a pretend medical exam from a fake human doctor and he doesn’t feel like enduring any particularly dramatic eye rolls, thank you very much.

Cas is left staring after him, perplexed. 

Dean can enthusiastically quote whole scenes from certain episodes of Dr. Sexy and has only recently started acting disinterested in watching with him. 

Something’s bothering him, but Dean denies it, clamming up when Cas tries to mention it that night. 

Cas can always tell when Dean’s dreaming about him, and well, once Dean moans his name it feels like an invitation.

When Cas glimpses the dream, he’s already part of it. 

Dean is dressed like a doctor and wearing boots Cas recognizes from the melodrama as belonging to the main character, Dr. Sexy. He’s using a stethoscope on a shirtless Dream Cas in an examination room straight from the set of the show. The scene unfolds and Sleeping Dean and Dream Dean are both aroused through all the superfluous touching administered in the name of medicine. 

Cas isn’t quite sure he gets it, but then, humans are weird.

In the end, he asks Sam, explaining that he was unaware that masquerading as a healthcare provider could be a turn on.

“What is it _exactly_ about impersonating a medical professional that’s desirable?”

Sam frowns at his half-eaten sandwich and drops it back onto his plate. 

“I, uh, wouldn’t focus on understanding it, people just like role playing certain scenarios.”

“Like when you and Dean pretend to be members of law enforcement?”

“Kind of, but that’s necessary for the job. This is all about sex.”

“So I should make an appointment to take Dean to a clinic and ask to borrow their facilities?”

“No, no. _No_. Do not do that,” Sam stresses with his hand and sighs. "Cas, this isn't the sort of thing I really want to talk to you about, you know?"

Cas tilts his head like he can't quite understand why such a topic would be uncomfortable. 

"Should I ask Eileen?"

"Please don't," Sam says and rubs at his eyebrow. “Okay, so you really want to indulge Dean in this fantasy?”

Cas nods. All the other ideas Dean has introduced to their sex life have been enjoyable and this one seems simple enough.

“Oookay then. Well. I guess, I will… help you. With that,” Sam says as he reaches for his laptop.

“Should I cough a lot?” Cas wonders.

Sam scrunches his eyes closed.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why the hell would you move the beer down to the infirmary?”

Sam scoffs and gestures to Dean with a wave of his long arm. “You’re the one who shot me down when I wanted to get the low carb beer. I figured I’d be doing you a favor, adding some steps to your day. Walk off some of the calories, you know?”

“Do you even hear yourself right now, Sam? You know I hate warm beer.”

“There’s a fridge in there,” Sam states innocently, like he isn’t trying to ruin Dean’s day by enforcing his idealistic standards of beauty. 

“In the infirmary?” 

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t remember that, but he hasn’t been in that part of the bunker in ages.

“My pie better not be missing when I get back,” Dean warns. 

He’s pretty sure Sam knows better than to mess with a man’s baked goods, but this is the same lettuce-chomping weirdo who thinks cake and pie are on the same level. 

“I’m leaving. For the night,” Sam announces like it’d be crazy if he weren’t.

Dean stops.

“That seems weird.”

“Just you wait,” Sam says as he hurriedly gathers his things and leaves the room. Confused, Dean leaves too. 

Rounding the corner to the infirmary, he comes to an abrupt stop. 

A long white lab coat is hanging on a hook from the door. Just underneath it is a pair of cowboy boots. _His_ cowboy boots. Dean plucks a sticky note from the wall.

_Dr. Sexy,_

_Please put these on._

_Your 3:15 is waiting._

Hesitating, Dean looks swiftly up and down the hall. 

If this is Sam’s idea of a joke… but what if it isn’t a joke? It _is_ Cas’s handwriting and Dean hasn’t seen him around the past hour or so.

Hardly daring to believe it, Dean tears out of his flannel and kicks off his boots simultaneously, because this is a green light if he ever saw one. The lab coat goes on easily enough and Dean notices a laminated ID badge pinned to his pocket. It looks like a Sam Winchester Kinko’s specialty. Now uncomfortably certain that Sam had some involvement in this whole scenario, Dean chooses to ignore that thought, hopefully forever.

In his haste to yank on his boots, Dean nearly loses his footing. He can’t ever remember _putting on_ clothing and being so aroused. 

Dean smooths a hand through his hair and straightens his coat, before knocking curtly on the door and letting himself in.

Cas is sitting on the edge of an exam table in a thin hospital gown with overlapping panels that tie in the front. It’s loose and lopsided at the top, nearly slipping off one shoulder, tempting Dean by exposing his clavicle. There’s a clipboard in his lap and Cas holds it out. The paper roll underneath him crinkles with the movement.

“The nurse left my chart for you, doctor.”

Dean nearly creams his pants. 

Shutting the door, he tries to collect himself. When Cas returns his hands to his lap the fabric creeps further up his thigh, revealing additional inches of soft, warm skin. He looks kind of vulnerable with his legs and arms bare and with the way his feet dangle above the floor. Dean clears his throat.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Winchester.” Dean congratulates himself on that little improvisation because Cas perks right up and his expression turns tender, looking up at Dean with his eyes wide and far too soppy for what they’re about to do. Time to get things back on track. “You’re here for—”

“I’m very, very sick,” Cas fakes an unattractive sounding cough, dragging out the whole thing too long and Dean cringes a little.

Sick is not hot. No one wants to get it on with a germy contagious partner. Sure, he’d made an exception that one time Cas had wanted to go down on _him_ when he’d had a cold, but Cas couldn’t get sick and it really had helped Dean relax enough to finally stop his bitching and get some much needed sleep.

Dean lowers his voice, whispering to Cas in a way that isn’t supposed to interfere with their game, “Not _sick_ , dude. Sick isn’t sexy, pick something else.”

“But… I’m… at the doctor,” Cas whispers back hesitantly, frowning at him, like he can’t possibly imagine any other reason for such a visit. 

“How ‘bout a physical or a check-up or something routine like that?”

“Yes,” the confusion clears and Cas nods. “I’m here for a physical,” he supplies, nodding again at the chart like there’s actually something written there. “And you can call me Cas.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Dean snaps back into his professional persona, giving the blank papers a cursory glance and moving to the counter next to Cas.

It’s laid out with all sorts of goodies. Glass jars hold cotton balls, cotton swabs, and tongue depressors. Some of the items look old like they were found in the infirmary. Others are clear additions, like the lube and speculum. 

Turning towards the small sink, Dean washes his hands thoroughly before selecting from the counter.

He drapes a stethoscope around his neck and picks up the head mirror, an old but iconic look for doctors. Dean doesn’t know what to use it for, but puts the headband on anyway. It’s important to look the part.

“So, did the nurse take your vitals?”

Cas is staring at the mirror on Dean’s head, but the question prompts him to lean closer.

“Dean, there is no nurse,” Cas confides in a whisper.

“Yeah, no, I get that. Just pretend.”

Straightening up, Cas’s expression turns solemn.

“The nurse is real. She used my radial artery to determine my heart rate and…” Cas glances around the room, spotting the scale. “…She weighed me.”

“Okay, great.”

Dean clicks his pen, makes a squiggle on the clipboard, and steps closer to Cas. A touch to his bare knee has Cas spreading his legs so Dean can stand between them.

“I’m going to check your lymph nodes,” he says, raising his hands to Cas’s neck and gently touching both sides with small circular movements of his fingers. As Dean carefully caresses Cas’s neck he gets a bit caught up in staring at his lips. Usually when Dean stands so close like this, fingers flitting over Cas’s pulse, thumb dipping into the notch at the base of his neck, he’d be ready to dip in for a taste.

“Higher.”

“Shh,” Dean shushes him with a touch of a finger to his pale lips. “I’m the doctor.”

Reaching for the blood pressure cuff, Dean wraps it snugly around Cas’s upper arm, pushing the short sleeve of his gown out of the way. 

“Gotta check your blood pressure,” Dean says, fitting the stethoscope tips into his ears and resting the other end in the crook of Cas’s arm. 

He squeezes the pump until it’s fully inflated around Cas’s arm and then opens the valve to release the air, making a show of studying the pressure gauge. Cas watches him.

“Seems good.” 

The Velcro rips loudly as Dean removes the cuff. Moving back to the counter, he draws a little smiley face on Cas’s chart and picks up the doohickey thing for examining ears. He’ll have to look up more doctor lingo if they ever do this again. 

Cas lets him look in his ears and mouth, playing along when Dean uses the tongue depressor and tells him to say, ‘ahh.’ He obediently keeps his mouth open when Dean decides to slide his finger past his lips in the name of science. First one finger then two, pressing them against Cas’s tongue and slowly mapping out the inside of his mouth until Cas grows impatient with the exploration and sucks them both in further. 

Dean doesn’t let it go on for long because the way Cas is insistently licking between his fingers and sucking like there’s no tomorrow is giving him ideas and he doesn’t want to stray too far from his original plan. Cas isn’t going to be the one calling the shots today. Oh no. Dean has other plans. So he grabs the first thing he sees after yanking his fingers out of Cas’s hot mouth, forcing himself back into Professional Doctor mode. When Dean tests Cas’s reflexes with the little rubber hammer, Cas seems surprised at the result, but it’s enough to get the exam back on track. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and undo your gown?” Dean gestures to where it’s tied.

Cas loosens both knots and opens his gown, revealing that he isn’t wearing anything underneath. Skin that Dean has gotten intimately acquainted with greets him and he doesn’t miss the way Cas’s nipples harden at the exposure to the chilled air. Instead of touching, Dean huffs breaths onto the end of his stethoscope to warm it up before placing it on his chest.

He listens to Cas’s heart which is surprisingly loud. 

“Take deep breaths.”

Cas does, leaning back with his palms flat on the sanitary paper. Normally Dean would be tempted by all that warm inviting skin, he wouldn’t waste any time, sliding his hands up and down Cas’s sides, his lips kissing across his torso, but he resists. As a doctor he has to keep things clinical. Dean moves slowly across his chest and down his abdomen, listening in different spots. Touching gently, he examines Cas’s stomach, prodding at arbitrary intervals. Dean gets a little distracted when he notices Cas’s cock twitching slightly as his fingers press lower. 

Licking his lips, Dean glances up and is surprised to find Cas staring at him intently— _no, not at him_ —at just above him.

“I have to know why you’re wearing that mirror on your head.”

Dean had forgotten about it and abruptly takes it off. 

“It’s a doctor thing,” he says dismissively.

“Yes, but what does it do?”

“How the hell should I know? Just don’t worry about it, man. Take the gown off.”

Cas frowns like he isn’t satisfied by that answer, but shrugs the fabric from his shoulders anyway. 

Switching to Cas’s back, Dean feels along his spine and listens between his shoulder blades. Unable to resist, his eyes flit down to where the beginning of Cas’s bare ass can be seen peeking out from the discarded gown pooled around him.

Fishing out a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter, Dean puts them on, pulling at the end of one and letting it snap back against his wrist. 

“Do you have any health issues I should know about? Any discomfort?”

“No.”

“No complaints, then?”

“Well, _Doctor_ ,” Cas purrs out the word with a deep breathy exhale, never taking his eyes from Dean who bites his lip and struggles to remember what they're talking about. “…is it a problem that everything I eat tastes like molecules?”

“That’s actually not uncommon at your age,” Dean smirks, proud of himself for stringing together a cohesive sentence. “Now lie on your side, I need to take your temperature.”

Cas arranges himself on his side, bringing one knee up to his chest at Dean’s direction and putting his backside on display. Dean takes the opportunity to palm himself through his jeans. It’s getting uncomfortable in there and Cas wiggling his ass right where Dean wants it doesn't make things any better.

Pumping a little lube onto his fingers, Dean slicks up the end of the thermometer and then slowly rubs the remainder between Cas’s cheeks, wetting every wrinkle and pressing right up against his hole with two fingers so that Cas lets out a little grunt. 

“Deep breath in and then out,” Dean instructs, gently inserting the thermometer as Cas exhales.

He leaves his hand on Cas’s ass, kneading at it and giving it a good squeeze. After a minute, Cas moves restlessly.

“How much longer?”

“Just another minute,” Dean guesses, petting his thigh and looking at the examination table. “I really wish this thing had stirrups.”

“It does. They fold out of the top drawer.”

“Then we are done taking your temperature,” Dean says, decisively removing the thermometer. He throws away the gloves and turns his attention to the table, giddily setting up the stirrups. 

“So your feet go up in here then, oh, wait.” Dean moves to the table, adjusting the surface so that half of it's at an incline and Cas has something to lean against. “Okay, sit back, feet up here, then scoot forward.”

Dean tugs on a new pair of gloves, messing up the second one spectacularly in his distraction since Cas is spreading his legs and arranging his heels in the stirrups. The damn thing ends up ripping and Dean has to go for a new one. 

“I need you right here,” Dean says, patting the end of the table.

Cas bends his knees and spreads his thighs further, scooting his sweet ass right where Dean indicated. As he lays his head back, Cas drums his fingers on his inner thigh once, twice, before halting.

“Some patients find this off-putting,” Dean says, recognizing the slightly nervous gesture.

“I feel very exposed.”

“That’s the idea, Cas. I want—need to see all of you.”

Moving Cas’s hand to his stomach, Dean grips his hips and slides his ass even closer, so he's the teeniest amount off the edge. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, taking a step back to fully appreciate the inviting sight of Cas decadently displayed solely for Dean’s perverse enjoyment. And enjoy he would.

“I just need to examine your, uh, external areas.”

Dean spreads Cas’s already separated cheeks even further apart, holding them obscenely open so he can see that perfect, pink pucker. It moves minutely, breathing right along with Cas’s steady inhales. Dean uses his thumbs to press and part tender flesh. The thought of looking inside is starting to create a problem in his jeans and Dean struggles to remember how to play doctor despite his abruptly rerouted blood flow. 

Touching. Lots and lots of touching is necessary. 

Coating his gloved fingers in lube again, Dean moves back into the wide open space between Cas’s legs and begins a mock medical exam of his cock. He smooths his thumbs one after the other along the underside and swirls a finger around the head, thumbing across the slit. Briefly pumping with both hands, Dean can feel Cas’s dick swelling up at the motion. 

He rolls his balls back and forth in his palm, noting that he has Cas's attention. And it's a great sight too, Cas on top of his discarded gown, reclining on the medical table, looking ever so slightly flushed as Dean slowly massages from his balls down until his fingers are circling over that familiar heated entrance that's always so welcoming. 

Between the gloves and the lube, Dean’s fingers are positively slippery, and he eases his index finger right in to the knuckle. Rotating his wrist slowly back and forth, Dean feels Cas from the inside.

“I read about this,” Cas says, quiet and a little breathy. “How doctors palpate the rectum internally to assess potential problems. It’s a skill that takes a lot of practice.”

“I concur,” Dean says, doubling the number of fingers spearing in and out of Cas. He has every intention of palpating the everloving fuck out of his know-it-all patient. 

Dean goes slow, sliding against those silky smooth internal walls, seeking out just the right spot and—Bingo.

“Prostate stimulation,” Dean unnecessarily informs Cas when he gasps. 

“I—ahh—recognize it.”

Dean hums as Cas fidgets, trying to direct Dean’s fingers to that same spot again. Of course, Cas wanting it so bad always gets Dean’s motor running and as soon as Cas sees that Dean is turned on he generally gets pretty handsy. This time is no exception and he reaches for Dean, grabbing at his coat and reeling him in closer, wanting a kiss.

Dean resists, prying Cas from his coat while he still has two fingers snuggly inside him.

“If you can’t control yourself during the examination, I’ll have to restrain you, Mr. Winchester,” Dean says, tacking on the name just to frustrate his sappy boyfriend further.

Cas nearly pouts, but behaves, tensely reclined and fixing Dean with a searing look as Dean continues to jab his fingers in and out.

Cas grips the sides of the table and Dean drinks in the sight of him. A flush rises across his chest, sneaking upwards towards his neck which stretches beautifully long, throat bobbing obvious with the way Cas has his head tipped back against the paper. With his legs spread obscenely wide, his cock and balls are perfectly displayed, the former hard and red against his stomach and starting to drip onto himself. Dean drives his fingers in harder, captivated by the view of them disappearing into Cas. His hole shiny with lube and temptingly pink where the rim stretches around Dean’s gloved fingers.

Dean's going to stuff his fucking angel like a goddamn holiday bird.

But first a taste.

Lowering himself, Dean removes his fingers and seizes Cas’s cock, squeezing slightly as he begins slow strokes. He barely has to push at Cas’s cheeks to get access, the stirrups doing most of the work for him. The way Cas’s ass is hanging off the edge of the table like it’s just about to fall into Dean’s waiting mouth, makes Dean hum in approval as he approaches it at eye level. 

His first taste is just that, a flick of his tongue over that hot hole and it’s Cas who grabs for his hair, pressing him closer. Dean allows it for now, he was heading there anyway. He eagerly licks into Cas, loving how he tastes, loving the moans of approval Cas makes in his throat. The way he parts so easily for his tongue. Normally Dean would spend longer resting cheek to cheek with Cas as he slowly, methodically licks him open. He loves pressing his lips to Cas, spearing his tongue in and out, dragging it slowly all around the outside of the furled skin, increasing his depth each time until he’s positively diving in deep.

But the table height is all wrong, Dean’s caught between a bend and a crouch and it’s wreaking havoc with his back. He reluctantly straightens up, Cas’s hand falling from his hair to his thigh. Keeping his grip firm on Cas’s cock, Dean works his fist up and down, watching.

Evidence of his efforts is apparent everywhere he looks. Cas is curling his toes where they’re resting in the stirrups, his hand jumps from his thigh to Dean’s wrist, a gentle barely there touch encouraging him to keep going. His nipples are hard, the blush more pronounced, his mouth open and lips red from biting at them. Even his hair has gotten messier from tossing his head against the table back.

Dean speeds up his hand, twisting his wrist the way he knows Cas likes it. Cas raises his hips, tries humping upwards into dean’s slick latex grip but he can't get the leverage he needs with his feet in the air and it only makes him frustrated. Still, Dean knows Cas is getting close—he can tell from the way his body slowly tenses—so he works his cock furiously for another minute before completely letting go.

Cas drops his head back against the cushioned table with a grunt, his red cock bobbing and leaking. “Dean,” he growls it.

“C’mon, Cas, I didn’t suffer through eight years of fake medical school for you to call me Dean.”

Cas huffs in annoyance, briefly closing his eyes and when he opens them they’re already rolling.

“Doctor,” he grates out and it goes straight to Dean’s dick where it’s already straining against his jeans.

“Let’s get you opened up,” Dean says, holding up a speculum so Cas can see it, because as much as he wants to be inside Cas professional protocol demands he gets a good look before he plugs that hole.

Despite his frustrations at all of Dean’s teasing, Cas manages to be patient while Dean returns his attention to his ass, petting a cheek as he positions the speculum since Cas is being such a good boy. It only takes a moment to slide the metal inside such a slick hole. Dean manipulates the device easily, spreading Cas just enough to be able to see deep inside that perfect pink cave, warm and wet and welcoming. Dean unbuttons his pants as he enjoys the view and Cas squirms under the scrutiny.

“You should see yourself, babe. All spread open and ready for me. You look so fucking hot on that exam table.”

Cas makes another noise of frustration and then, “I want to participate, doctor.”

His eyes are on Dean’s hands where he’s palming himself through his boxers. Dean nearly snorts, he should have known. There are few things Cas seems to enjoy more than giving him a blowjob. It’s almost a little weird how enthusiastic he can be about getting Dean’s dick in his mouth. Of course, Dean doesn’t complain. He’d have to be insane to deny Cas. No, he enjoys Cas’s weird little fetish just as much, so naturally he agrees. He even lets Cas take his feet from the stirrups so he can turn on the table to where Dean’s moved closer to his head.

“That’s it, sweetheart, get my dick all nice and wet for your ass,” Dean encourages, unnecessarily, since Cas’s lips are on him immediately, so eager to touch that he’s swallowing Dean whole. Dean pushes forward slightly, meeting Cas’s mouth with a steady pace of thrusts as Cas’s impatient hands grab at his ass and urge him forward. It’s so hot and wet and wonderful, that Dean can’t help but grab at Cas’s hair, dragging him impossibly closer, lips and tongue busy at the base of his cock.

Dean moans and Cas answers with his own pleased sound, busy mouth full of Dean’s cock and drool pooling from the corners. The little shit starts sucking relentlessly, just because he can and Dean nearly loses it, ready to blow his load down Cas’s throat.

“Suck my balls,” Dean says to buy himself some time and Cas complies, pulling off Dean’s dick with a wet pop, and attacking his balls with the same enthusiasm.

Dean gets his hands on Cas, jacking his dick, and this time Cas has his feet underneath him. He’s able to hump forward into Dean’s hands, desperate movements demanding more now that Dean’s touching him again. Dean’s dick is resting on Cas’s face while he happily licks and sucks at Dean’s balls, making a sloppy mess of himself.

When Cas takes him in his mouth again, sucking with renewed vigor, Dean’s sorely tempted to just stay in that hot sucking heat with Cas’s expert tongue doing that fucking thing he loves, but then again, he _is_ a doctor. He took an oath to fuck this patient into better health and by god he’s going to deliver.

Dean reaches around Cas to where he can feel the speculum still doing its job, keeping Cas spread open and waiting.

“Damnit, Cas, I’m a doctor, not a popsicle,” Dean scolds as he pulls his dick away from Cas and his eager tongue, wishing, not for the first time, that Cas had seen Star Trek.

Cas just tilts his head, confused and horny and probably really irritated that Dean took away his favorite snack.

Dean just smirks at him, shuffling back to the end of the table since his jeans are caught somewhere between his knees and his ankles because of the boots he’s wearing. There’s no way he’s taking them off now, so he just orders Cas to put his feet back in the stirrups and enjoys one long last look at him spread wide on the examine table, looking positively debauched. His lips and chin still wet, one hand pulling at his own cock since Dean abandoned it, and just below, that needy, gaping hole, still forced open and just begging to be stuffed full.

Not wanting to disappoint his patient, Dean deftly removes the speculum, then his gloves, and sinks two fingers into Cas as far as they’ll go. Simply testing the water and finding the temperature perfect.

He dives in with his dick, splitting Cas even further open and stilling when he’s sunk all the way in. Cas’s legs bracket him on either side, useless still in the stirrups. Since his back is still propped up by the table Dean only needs to dip his head to capture Cas’s lips, kissing him lightly at first, a tease that Cas no longer wants to tolerate if the way he grabs on to Dean and deepens it is any indication. Dean loves tasting himself on Cas and he holds onto his jaw so he can angle them even better, licking into Cas’s mouth.

They fall apart, Cas returning a hand to his cock and one to his nipples because he knows Dean likes watching him touch himself. Dean’s dick is finally where he wants it and he drives it repeatedly into Cas, the rapid movements making the paper crinkle obnoxiously beneath them. Louder than that is the meat of Dean’s thighs smacking against Cas’s ass and Dean can barely hear the way Cas is panting with pleasure, but he can see it in the way his mouth hangs open and his eyes have scrunched shut like he’s focusing only on the sensation of Dean’s cock in his ass and his own hand flying faster.

That combined with the near perfect view Dean has of Cas’s hole devouring his cock and Dean knows he won’t last particularly long at this point. Cas either for that matter. He pulls all the way out and back in a few times relishing the view and savoring the feel of feeding his dick into Cas, of parting that tight pucker like he’s Moses fucking strolling through the Red Sea.

Then he’s back to business, knocking Cas’s hand out of the way so he can dole out a proper handjob while he plows into him methodically. Cas grabs at the paper on either side of him, it crinkles and then tears under his jerky grasp. Dean keeps at it, and soon Cas is gone, spilling cum all over Dean’s fist and his own chest. Dean strokes him through it until Cas is shaky and batting his hand away. He takes that as his cue to grab onto Cas and drill him good. Like he 's a doctor of dentistry.

Dean’s really letting Cas have it, gripping his waist and unable to take his eyes off Cas as he rubs the cum into his skin, tasting it from his fingers while Dean stares. Dean’s so close that all it takes to send him over the edge is Cas fixing him with a look, biting at his lip and saying, “Doctor” in that unfairly sexy voice of his.

Dean floods his ass, cock twitching in place as he blows his load, all but collapsing onto Cas in the process. Cas kisses the top of his head and brushes fingers through his hair until Dean’s able to stand again. Cum oozes out of his ass after Dean pulls out, hole gaping slightly from a proper pounding. Dean pushes it back in with his fingers, wishing he had a plug. Maybe next time. The creampie makes him think of the slice of apple that he abandoned in the kitchen. 

Cas starts to take his legs out of the stirrups, but Dean stops him, abruptly deciding he’s not finished. He squats down and licks into Cas again, tasting himself while Cas sighs contentedly and pets at his head. Dean saves a little warm cum on his tongue to kiss back into Cas’s mouth, before he helps him free his legs, affectionately rubbing his feet and shins in the process.

Cas finally sits up properly, wrapping warm arms around Dean in a loose limbed hug.

“What sort of games do we play when you wear your cowboy hat?” He mumbles the question into Dean’s chest and Dean laughs. 

“Depends,” Dean says as he kisses his head. “How do you feel about assless chaps?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if there are typos. I decided to change tense halfway through, hopefully I got them all. I just couldn't read through this for the 100th time and I really didn't want to wait to post it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Happy New Year! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
